Twelve Steps
by Isabeaux3
Summary: When Lara's life is turned upside down, she has no one but a couple of strangers to turn to. But what happens when she finds her place and isn't welcome? And of course, I do not own the Winchesters or Supernatural, however Lara is very much mine.
1. Chapter 1

The day John Winchester died was the day I lost the closest thing I had to a father. He reminded me what having family was like. Despite our differences and arguments, at the end of the day we still had each other. I can't say he was the easiest man to get along with, but he always made sure I was cared for and that was more than I could've hoped for. My only regret is that I wish we had met under better circumstances.

I remember the heat of summer trying to control the cool August evening. I remember shivering but not feeling cold; the hair on the back of my neck stood in warning. I felt large, sweaty hands yank my arm into the alley next to the bar I was leaving. It was pool night and I needed to head home before work the next morning, not that I wanted to. I never made it home. It happened in such a blur, the man shoved me into the building, pressing himself against me, panting in my ear.

"No one tells me 'no.' I know, a little mouse like you wants to go wild," he whispered as he hiked my skirt up around my thighs and unzipped his jeans.

I recognized his voice belonging to a guy at the bar. My friend and I had played pool with him earlier. Not only had he lost the game, I also rejected his offer to buy me a drink. I whimpered against the hand that covered my mouth. The music from the bar poured out as I felt him shove himself inside me. Hot tears ran down my cheeks and I heard a different sound. Voices came closer to where I was being held, in that moment I could fight back. He swore when I bit down as hard as I could.

"Help me! Somebody please help me!"

"Stupid bitch!"

He slammed my head into the brick wall and I was knocked out cold.

When I came to, I saw dark eyes in a hard face. The world shifted and my stomach expelled the bar appetizers I had consumed earlier. The man held a trash can up to me and pulled my hair away from my face. My body ached all over and the wracking spasms seemed like they would never stop. I couldn't grasp what was going on around me. Where was I? Who was this man before me? What happened while I was out?

Finally, my body relented and I fell back into the pillows. I took a long look at the room around me. I was in a motel room with two queen sized beds, one of which I had been laid in. The room was simple, sage walls, a small table in the corner, another door leading to a bathroom, and another man. While the first man had been hard and steely, the younger man had soft green eyes and a chiseled face that had yet to be hardened by the world. My eyes briefly locked with his before I turned my attention back to the first man who looked about twenty years older than the other.

"Who are you?"

"I'm John Winchester. This is my son, Dean," he gestured to the younger man leaning against the wall. I nodded trying to catch my bearings.

"Where am I? What happened? Where is my-?"

"Whoa! Slow down there. One thing at a time. You've had quite an… eventful night," John said choosing his words carefully.

Everything rushed back. I had left before Sondra because she had decided the bartender was cute. I left alone knowing it was risky. Turned out my paranoia was justified. I could feel his body pushing against me, his warm breath on my cheek all over again. I heaved again and John was there waiting with the trash can. The sobs burst from my chest without warning.

"I know better! I set myself up! This is my fault! Oh, my God!"

"How is this your fault?" John asked me gently.

"Because I know better! A-a-and I've trained to defend myself! I keep a knife in my purse for Christ sake!" I paused and wiped the snot from my nose. _I know better._

The younger man pushed himself off the wall and sat on the bed across from John and myself.

"You were pinned to the wall. You did what you could," he said. His green eyes focused intently on my face. I hung my head despite his comforting words. I felt ashamed despite the fact I knew he was right.

As much as I wanted to believe I could have kicked my attacker or even flung my head into his jaw, he had been holding me just too tight.

"What's your name?" Dean's low voice sent a shiver down my spine. It was comforting and warm even though it looked like he worked hard, manual labor.

"Lara," I mumble through my tangled hair. Then it dawned on me. These men, these strangers, had saved me. Then brought me to what appeared to be their hotel room. But why? Did they want a turn? I started to panic, my breathing becoming labored and my eyes darting all over the room trying to find an escape route.

"You have nothing to fear from us, Lara."

John must have noticed the change in my demeanor because his voice was even gentler than before.

"How are you feeling now? Anyone we need to call?"

"Now you want to call someone? Why didn't you call 911 to begin with? Wait, what happened to…"

My voice trailed off at that point. What did you call the man, for lack of a better term, who violates you? "Rapist" is the technical term for him, but I didn't think that fully captured the extent of all the damage he had caused.

My hands fiddled with blankets covering me while I contemplated my situation. I felt the eyes of both men nervously flicker between me and each other.

"Well?"

Dean hung his head and glanced at his father who nodded.

"Ok, you're right. We should have taken you to the hospital. But here's the thing, we don't do well with the police, and as for that son-of-a-bitch? We took care of him. You won't have to worry about him. Now, who do you need to call?"

I stared at Dean in wonder. I was jealous. Here was a man who took care of things in his own way, he had the freedom that I craved. He had been able to do to that slime ball what I couldn't. Suddenly I was furious, why couldn't _I_ do the same.

"No one, there's no one to call."

"What about the girl you were with at the bar?"

"Sondra? No, we just play pool together. I'm tired, may I stay here?"

John looked at me thoughtfully, contemplating what was wrong with me and finally nodded.

"Thank you. I can sleep on the floor."

"No, I will."

Dean stood up, grabbed a pillow from the head of the bed and an extra blanket from the foot, and laid them down between the two beds. John had gone out to the car for their bags, leaving us alone.

"Do you want something else to sleep in?"

"No, I'm fine. Thank you, though."

I felt that if I changed clothes I would be even more vulnerable. Besides, I was tiny compared to the men I was staying with. From his spot on the floor, I heard Dean chuckle and sigh.

"What?"

"I'm just trying to imagine you with a knife."

"Oh."

We laid in silence and I wondered if I had made the right choice by staying. I had done one reckless thing tonight, why not another? What could be worse than what I had already experienced? Maybe John and Dean were psychos and would finish me off.

The next morning, I awoke groaning, feeling disappointed that I was in the motel and that the previous night wasn't a nightmare. I heard the men moving around, gathering their things, getting ready to leave.

"Take me with you?"

John looked startled at the question.

"No, Lara. You need to go home, find a way to move on. Besides your family would miss you."

"I don't have family. I hate my job; I have nothing to hold me here."

"Why would you want to come? You don't know us."

"I know you saved me and didn't have to. And," I ducked my head embarrassed by this next part, "And I just have this feeling and the last time I ignored my gut I was attacked in an alley."

"You good with that knife?"

"Dad, you can't be serious!"

"Lara?"

"Pretty good. I took a couple of boxing classes, too."

"Let's get your stuff; we can pick more along the way."

"Oh, thank you!"

I jumped out of bed grinning, maybe there was a way I could get through this, with them.

"On one condition, you train and follow my rules."

I nodded my head vigorously. If they were psychos, then I had to be as well, because what normal person runs away with strangers.

It took less than twenty minutes for us to get their car packed. I had been quite impressed by the black Impala waiting in the lot. The car looked like it had been taken care of over the years.

"So where are we headed first?"

"To pick up your stuff, I guess," Dean said turning to face me from the passenger seat.

"Oh sure, which motel are we at?"

"The one on Main Street. What is it... Rusted Inn?"

"Okay take a left, like you're headed back to the bar, then a right on second street."

We drove in silence until they made the turn, watching the town I had lived in pass by. Nostalgia rolled over me and I wondered again if this was the right thing. I had had feelings of intuition before and things never went well when I ignored them. No, staying was not an option.

"It's the yellow house on the left."

John pulled over and I got out, walking up the drive for the last time.

"Do you want us to come in with you?"

"No, I'll be fine," I called over my shoulder to John.

The porch steps creaked as I made my way up to the door. I had only lived here since June and it didn't feel like home, nowhere had. I passed through the threshold, closing the door behind me. I walked the hallway to my room feeling more tense as I went. Something wasn't right. I shook my head, trying to calm myself so I could be in and out. I tossed a duffle from my closet onto the bed and started packing. Clothes weren't a big thing; I wore the same five outfits. What concerned me were the books. Books had been the one thing in my life that were consistent, that I could always rely on. I decided I would bring my Nook and three of my favorites. I could always download the others later onto the Nook. I straightened to move to the bathroom for my other necessities when I heard tinkling from the kitchen. I peeked my head out of the room hoping it was just my imagination.

"Hi."

I screamed when I saw the man from last night in front of me. He reminded me of a boy I had gone to high school with, the same short dark brown hair, towering height, and dark eyes. But this man's eyes were cold and calculating. He looked as if last night hadn't happened and from what Dean had said, that was inconceivable. He rushed me shoving me back into my room onto the bed.

"You stupid whore!" He slapped me across the face twice before closing his fist and hitting me again.

I cried out, screaming for help, begging for him to stop.

"I thought we took care of you!"

Dean pulled my assailant off me punching his jaw then kneeing him in the stomach. The man fell to the floor exposing his perfect face.

"What the hell! Dad!"

John rushed into the room, took one look at my attack and pulled a knife.

"John you can't!"

As much as I appreciated the heroics, I couldn't let them hurt him further. I wanted to call the police.

"Lara, this is one of those times I need you to take orders," John said from his crouched position next to the passed-out man on the floor, running the knife across the other man's arm. The flesh sizzled and puckered causing me to gasp. The next thing I knew, John plunged the knife into the attacker's heart.

"Wh-wha-what the hell! What just happened?"

"That Lara, was a shapeshifter," said John.

"We've gotta go, someone may have heard us," said Dean grabbing my duffle.

"I need my toiletries."

I raised myself off my bed making my way to the bathroom. I came back a moment later with my supplies and dumped them in the bag. Next, I faced my standing mirror. It was made of oak especially for me, a gift from my grandfather. I slid open the face with the mirror revealing an array of knives and two styles of machetes. I heard Dean give a low whistle.

"Think we have enough room for all of them?" I asked turning my head to them, feeling a corner of my mouth tug upwards.


	2. Chapter 2

I can't say that everything was perfect after we hit the road. John insisted on having me help with research only before going out to hunt. He also ran me through intense training exercises to keep me up to snuff in the meantime. Dean, on the other hand, insisted they return me to where they found me. His reasoning was that they hadn't picked up strays before, so why start now? He had a point, but it still hurt to hear.

In fact, once on the road, any compassion Dean may have had towards me was gone. I know being around me the first week or so couldn't have been easy for either of them. Spending extra to make sure our room had a couch or a pull out, hearing me cry in the middle of the night from nightmares. After the first couple nights, John had come to the motel with a leather-bound journal. Light brown with ties to keep my darkest moments hidden or to capture my new adventures to savor later. He said that after his wife died, it was a book very much like the one he had given me that got him through his roughest months. Looking back now, I can understand Dean's coldness; the moment I shared with his dad was one he never had.

Despite the Winchesters' disagreement and the bickering between Dean and me, I made surprising headway on my journey to becoming a hunter. I learned to utilize the weapons I already had in ways I never imagined. My grandfather had introduced me to knife and sword skills after my parents died. I had always thought his insistence that I learn the art of throwing knives strange until I left my less than perfect world behind. What I had seen as the eccentricities of an old man morphed into vital skills of survival. I couldn't help but feel that this had been my grandfather's plan which lead me into my own research project: who was Eugene Edwards really?

"What are you doing?"

"Looking something up."

"We already ganked the ghost, Lara. What else could there be to look up?"

Dean had come into our little motel room on the edge of a quiet town that needed saving. Rumor had it that Lion Manor was haunted by a deranged father that killed his wife and children. Local teens thought spending the night in the old house was a good idea. Father Dearest disagreed and the teens were found hanging in the attic just like he was some 100 years prior.

After I had done the necessary digging, John and Dean had found the proper grave to salt and burn the bones. Simple enough case, so I used my extra time to look into Grandpa Eugene. Finding information on just him wasn't as easy as I hoped. Articles about my parents' death kept popping up. Grandpa had always said it was an unfortunate camping accident and I had never felt the need to know more.

Dean came to stand behind me at the table where I was working.

"Who are Adrian and Lina Edwards?"

I tensed when I realized Dean was leaning over my shoulder, his breath grazing my ear. I got up, wrapping my arms around myself. Finally, I brought myself to look into his eyes.

"They're my parents."

"One of the strangest wendigo cases I've heard of," John said from the doorway.

"A what case?"

"I remember that one! A couple hunters tracked it down in the Black Hills. That was a tough one, they didn't make it- "

Dean's eyes widened as the light bulb went off.

"Oh shit! Lara…I-I'm- "

"It's fine. So, you knew my parents, John?"

"I met them once when I took a job involving a vamp nest. You look like your mother."

I was stunned. My parents had been hunters, what about my grandfather? Is that how my father learned? My head spun.

"So did you know my grandpa? Eugene?"

"Lara- "

"You did! He was a hunter too. Wasn't he? Wasn't he!"

"Yes. I met you, too. You were five, like Sammy. Dean was nine. Eugen was showing you how to fight," he chuckled, shaking his head.

"There you were kicking and hitting the mats like the Energizer Bunny, braids bouncing away."

"Is that why you let me come with? You recognized me?"

"When we got you to the motel, I had myself convinced I was seeing things. But then I checked your purse, and sure enough there you were, all grown up."

By this point, I was in tears. I couldn't tell if I was upset that they knew, rather John knew, and didn't tell me or if I was just overwhelmed.

"I'm sorry. This- it's just a lot to process." I closed my eyes and started a breathing exercise I learned to calm down.

"Dean, we're gonna grab food and stay another night. Lara, take this time to sort it out. I'll take the couch tonight."

I heard the door close as I continued breathing. Slowly, my body relaxed one muscle at a time. I concluded that things had unfolded the way they needed to. By this point I had laid down. My last thought before drifting off was that I hoped Dean wouldn't be even colder now.

I woke up to the sound of male voices speaking in hushed tones. As the fuzziness of sleep cleared, I could start to make out bits of their conversation.

"Why didn't you tell me that was Gene's girl?"

"It wasn't important."

"Not important! Dad, for the last month we've had this girl with us and you didn't think it was important to tell me who she is! Hell, you didn't think it was important to _her_ who she is! She has a right to know where she comes from, that she isn't alone."

"Why do you think I've been taking cases in this area? When I found out Gene died, I wanted to check in. I didn't think it'd come this far. She is definitely her grandpa's girl," it was hard to mistake the pride in his voice. Almost like _he_ was proud of me and not my grandfather, well if Grandpa were alive.

"Why her? Out of all the people we've saved, why her?"

"This conversation is over Dean, get some sleep. We have an early morning."

"No, you tell me. Why her? You gave her a journal; we've spent how much extra money so she can be here. You tell me, what makes her so frickin' special!"

It was silent for a moment and I thought John wouldn't answer. Dean had a good point; _why me?_ I had been asking myself the same question. Finding out that John knew my family sort of made sense, but there was still a piece missing that bothered me.

"She reminds me of your mother. Of my Mary," John's low voice carried over to me like a lullaby.

Hearing you remind someone of their dead spouse wouldn't normally be comforting, but coming from John, it was the highest form of praise you could get. He never told me himself and Dean never mentioned it either. To be honest, I'm glad that we never had that conversation.


	3. Chapter 3

The morning brought more tension. Dean wouldn't even look at me. I gathered my things and got myself ready for whatever the day had to offer. I could only hope that Dean would eventually warm up to me.

While I had been asleep, John received a call about a potential case. Through word of mouth, hunters shared any information about possible cases and who was the closest to check it out. The case in question was in Rockypoint, Wyoming, a good five-hour drive from where we were in the southwest corner of North Dakota. John said the clues pointed towards a typical ghoul infestation. I had to stifle a giggle when he used the word 'typical'.

"We leave in fifteen minutes. When we get there, Lara, I want you to look up ghouls and the best way to kill them, and Dean, make sure the weapons we need are ready to go. Let's move it people!"

John turned on his heel to march back out to our trusty vehicle. I didn't know a lot about cars but I knew the black '67 Impala was special. The Winchester's loved that car more than the air they breathed, it was home.

The first hour of the drive was uneventful. There was only so much sky, prairie, and cows you could look at before the sight became monotonous. Around the state border is when the nausea hit me. The last few days it came in waves, luckily I had been on desk duty in our motel.

"You need to pull over, I think I'm going to be sick!"

John pulled over to the shoulder of the highway and I scrambled to get out from the backseat. I barely made it to the grass when breakfast made a second appearance.

"You alright over there?" Dean called from the passenger side.

"Just peachy!" I croaked.

I couldn't believe that yet again I tossed my cookies. I thought back through the week wondering if it could be something I was eating causing the problem. I hadn't eaten the same thing twice nor did the guys order the same things I was eating, so food poisoning was unlikely. I quickly nixed the next few theories as also unlikely; that left me with one last idea. I prayed I was jumping to conclusions while I counted the days in my head.

"Fuck!" I whispered.

In the next town I would get more answers. But for now, I needed to keep it together. It was no use telling John until I had gathered evidence, that is if there was any.

Once my stomach had quit doing somersaults, I straightened up and made my way back to the car. My goal was to keep breathing and stay calm. I slammed the door as I stretched out in the backseat.

"How far is the next town?"

"Forty-five to an hour, how you holding up back there?" John asked as he started the car again.

"I've been better. Must've been something I ate."

"Well you just rest up; we've got a big night ahead of us."

I closed my eyes, snuggling into my jacket, willing myself to relax. It couldn't be possible, things like that only happen in Lifetime movies. The gentle bounce of the car on a cracking road lulled me into a fitful sleep.

My dreams were confusing to say the least. Vivid colors swirled together forming blurry images I couldn't make out. As images came closer into focus they whirled away before I could make them out. The most disconcerting detail was the amount of red present.

"Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty!"

I opened my eyes to see John peering at me from the front seat. I stretched and slowly sat up, hoping that my stomach would not overreact . Fortunately, my body behaved the way it should. I crawled out from the back seat grabbing my duffle and backpack. The weapons I had brought with integrated into the Winchester arsenal a few days after I joined them. As I carried my things to our room, I noticed a grocery store across the street. Our room was larger than what we normally got, with a kitchenette I could actually prepare a decent meal in.

"Anything special you want me to make tonight? There's a grocery store just across the street."

"Whatever you wanna make, Lara, is fine with me. Dean?"

"Yeah, whatever you want."

I nodded and left. I thought about what would be simple and fit the budget. In a perfect world, I would whip up some meatballs and mash potatoes. In our world, a rotisserie chicken and stove top stuffing would have to do. Then I remembered how much Dean loved pie, especially caramel apple pie. I hoped that would ease the tension. In order to hide what I actually came to the store for, I picked up more supplies for our slowly depleting first aid kit.

Fifty dollars later, I had the chicken keeping warm in the oven, the stuffing cooking, and the pie hidden in the microwave as a surprise. Luckily, John and Dean were tinkering with the Impala before dinner so I had the privacy I needed to either confirm or relieve my fears.

Five minutes doesn't seem like a huge chunk of time and in most cases it isn't. That night, five minutes felt like five hours. _What if the test was positive? Would John leave me on the curb? Would it be a shifter or is that a recessive gene? How would I take care of it? Did I even_ want _it?_ I refused to think the word 'baby'. Finally, the timer went off. I looked at the white piece of plastic that contained the directions for my life.

A perfect pink plus sign glared up at me from the window in the test. My first reaction was denial. _No way, false positives happen all the time. Aren't you supposed to do those stupid tests in the morning anyway? Yea, I'll just check again in the morning._

"Son of a bitch! Fuckin' twat!"

I had burned myself finishing up the stuffing while in deep thought. I heard heavy footsteps outside our door and swore again. This wasn't the time to draw more attention to myself.

"Are you okay?" Dean asked.

"Fine. I burned myself," I said gruffly, turning away so he couldn't see my eyes filling up with tears.

"Here, let me help you."

He guided me towards the bathroom, turning the faucet of the sink to cold.

"Let the water run over the burn and I'll grab some ointment."

The cool water felt good over the small blister that had already formed. I heard Dean inhale sharply and realized I hadn't gotten rid of the condemning evidence.

"You can't tell your dad! I-i-it could be wrong. Dean? Please?"

Dean turned to look at me. His eyes taking in my shame and the tears that had finally spilled. Sighing, he shook his head, throwing away the damning test.

"I won't tell. You're gonna check again, right?"

"Yes."

I couldn't look him in the eye. He had been right the whole time; I didn't belong here.

"I'm so sorry. I should go. You guys don't need this," I sobbed into my hands, my world crumbling again.

"Hey, hey now! Why are you sorry? It isn't your fault! You're staying. I'm not letting you go back. We'll figure this out."

"You hate me though!"

"I don't hate you, a little jealous, but I don't hate you. If anything I want to protect you and I thought if you went back you would be. Now…"

"Now what?"

"I'm starting to realize that maybe this is where you should be. I don't like it, but it is what it is. Like I said, we'll figure this out, I promise."

I sniffed and nodded, letting him lead me to the kitchen to eat.

"Smells good, Lara."

"There's pie in the microwave, too. I wanted to surprise you."

Dean smiled and patted my back.

"Where's your dad?"

I checked out the window, gazing by the car and vending machines. Turning to face the room again, I noticed his duffle was also missing.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Does your dad just take off sometimes?"

"What?"

Dean looked outside again and found a note on the bed closest to the door.

'Dean-

Time to fly solo. Show her the ropes and take care of that ghoul.'

"Looks like I get to come hunting."


	4. Chapter 4

"Is this normal? I mean does he go hunting by himself often?"

"Yea, there was a time he left Sam and me alone for two weeks. I just didn't think he'd do it so soon with you along, or at least take you with him."

"Sam's your brother, right?"

"Yup, little Sammy. He's at Stanford… he quit hunting," Dean said proudly, but if I wasn't mistaken there was some anger there, too.

"Oh, so where do we start? Your dad said we're probably dealing with ghouls?"

"Right, so first we want to make sure this is a ghoul we're dealing with. Grab your computer and search Rockypoint, Wyoming."

Picking up my backpack, I removed my laptop and powered it up. I was pleased to know that my choice to bring it was helpful; the champagne colored Toshiba Satellite was my favorite piece of technology besides my phone. When the computer was ready to go, I typed the string 'Rockypoint, WY' into the browser. The first article described a vandalized grave of a recently deceased rancher from the area. The second, was a body of a teenage girl that had died in a car accident the month before. The poor thing was found five yards from her grave and had been mutilated by what seemed to be animals. A week separated the incidents and Dean felt confident to say that the town was indeed being prowled by a ghoul.

Dean then had me look up how to kill a ghoul, even though he already knew how. His idea was to see how well I could form a plan now that playtime was over. I soon found out how difficult finding a kill method was. Before, John and Dean decided what we were dealing with and acted accordingly. I had just looked up background information on the parties involved. The difficulty with looking up a ghoul, or any supernatural/paranormal beasty, is sifting through the myths to get to the facts. For instance, a ghoul is not a zombie as it was never human or ghouls only feed on carrion, a ghoul would kill something living if the opportunity presented itself. I finally found a source that stated decapitating a ghoul was the surest way to kill it. With that, Dean dumped a duffle full of blades on the bed.

"Pick a couple to sharpen and let's go."

I eyed two of the machetes I had brought from home. Picking up the first, I ran my thumb along the edge of the blade, checking its sharpness. Satisfied with the first, I checked the second.

"What's next?" I asked after finding both blades suitable for their task.

"We flush it out and gank it. I'll take point."

The sun had set by the time we drove through the gates of the cemetery. Gravel crunched under our tires as we crept along the path. Dean thought that the most likely place to find the ghoul would be in a mausoleum or a similar structure. The graveyard didn't house a mausoleum but it did however hold two sheds, one new and one decrepit. My money was on the latter.

We parked the car half way between the gate and the older shed. The beam of my flashlight landed on grass ahead of me. I was hoping keep myself from falling in a hole. We walked silently, our ears perked for anything that sounded out of place.

As we neared the old shed, I noticed bits of gunk in the grass. I nudged Dean, motioning to the macabre trail. He nodded once and continued forward. A breeze tickled my face bringing the odor of decay with it. There was definitely something nearby.

When we reached the shed, we took positions on each side of the door. Dean slowly turned the knob, pushing the door into the waiting darkness. I could hear crunching and squishing from inside and felt my stomach turn. As disturbing as the situation was, our timing couldn't have been better.

"Hehehe, feast feast feast, guts and more guts!" the excited murmurings reached my ears, flipping a switch.

I charged into the room swinging my weapon and catching the creature in the back. Shrieking in surprise and hopefully, pain, the ghoul swung around flinging me into the wall. Dean meanwhile took the opportunity to get behind the ghoul. His blade slicing through flesh in a fluid movement. The head rolled towards the door, the angry expression glaring at us in the moonlight.

"What the hell, Lara?! Are you trying to kill yourself? What about the baby? Christ!"

I groaned bringing myself into a sitting position. My head and back throbbing from where I connected with the wall.

"What about the baby? Who said I even want it?"

The expression on Dean's face told me that I had spoken aloud what I had meant to keep to myself. I looked at my hands, not knowing how to break the silence.

"You don't mean that. C'mon, we have to go."

He helped me to my feet and walked me to where we parked the car.

"Shouldn't we clean up after ourselves?" I asked, motioning in the direction of the shed.

He ignored me as he put me in the passenger side of the Impala and then walked around to the trunk. When he came back into sight, he was carrying a gas can. I watched him walk back towards the shed then start sloshing the gasoline on the ground outside and inside the shed. When he finished he stood back and threw, what I assumed to be a lighter, into the dark mouth of the shed. Slowly, flames crackled forth, licking the walls of the shed growing larger. Dean slammed his door and started the car.

The short drive back to the motel was silent. I didn't know what to say. I had confessed that the being growing inside of me was of no importance to me. That I didn't care if it lived or died. What kind of person did that make me?

"I'm scared," I finally spoke up.

We had just walked into our room and I couldn't take the silence anymore. Dean looked up at me from the bed he had flopped onto.

"Scared of what?"

"What the baby will be. If I'll be a good mom. Will I even be able to love it?"

I stepped to sit at the foot of the other bed. I felt my shoulders sink as the weight of reality finally sank to the depth of my being. I felt Dean's presence beside me as he moved to my bed.

"Just take it one day at a time. You don't have to figure it all out tonight or even make a decision. Right now, all you have to do is sleep. We'll call my Dad in the morning and go from there."

I nodded numbly, feeling more at peace than I had for the last couple of days. I stood up to go to the bathroom and prepare for bed. Dean was right, I didn't have to have everything set in stone immediately I had time. I left the bathroom and shivered. I may have had this amazing revelation but that didn't take the hurt away. Hurt from what happened to me; hurt from missing Grandpa Eugene; hurt from knowing what had happened to my parents.

"Dean?"

"Hmmm?"

"Will you sleep with me? Like, next to me. Just sleep?" I held my breath, cheeks flushed from how lame that sounded.

"Heh! Yea, c'mere."

I sighed with relief and snuggled in next to him. I fell asleep with the scent of musk and pine on my mind.


	5. Chapter 5

"Damn it!"

I heard a thud and looked to see Dean slamming his phone onto the bed side table. It had been a week and half since we finished up in Rockypoint. We meandered south, picking up the odd job along our way. Dean thought sunshine might lift my mood. I had been somewhat erratic in my mood swings and had been caught with a cigarette a time or two. Dean then proceeded to find all my hidden packs and break each white cylinder of stress relief.

"Dean, he'll call when he calls."

"You'd think he would want to check in, you know?"

"I bet he'll call tonight. Hey, check out what I found. Have you ever been to New Orleans?"

"Ooh, Mardi Gras!"

"Wrong time of the year, dude," I answered, rolling my eyes.

"Damn. Well what did you find?"

"For the last month members of the Congregation of the Spiritual Temple have been found dead on the front steps."

"The Spiritual Temple?"

"Yes, one of the largest voudon churches in the country."

"Voudon? You mean voodoo? Lara, that's not really our gig."

"And why not?"

"Well, voodoo is one of the things we fight."

"No, Dean, we save people regardless of their beliefs. Did you know that while voudon is African based, it holds a striking resemblance to Catholicism? You really should reconsider using Hollywood as a source of information."

Now it was Dean's turn to roll his eyes at me.

"You're not gonna drop this, are you?"

"No," I answered immediately.

"Looks like we're going to New Orleans," Dean sighed.

"Yes!" I hissed, making a "victory" fist pump by my side.

A half hour later, we were on the road. In the time since we left Wyoming, we had made it to Ada, Oklahoma. The highway passed beneath the tires of Baby, as Dean so lovingly named his car. The warm fall air played with my hair as it passed through the open window, causing dark tendrils to dance. I did have to admit the sunshine lifted my mood a bit. However, it would take a lot more than extra vitamin D to relieve me of the stress on my plate. Any optimism I had for a future with this baby was dwindling quickly and Dean wasn't helping with his overprotective behavior.

"You're quiet."

"Hmm? Just thinking."

"About the baby?"

"Yeah. I don't think I can do this, I mean especially by myself. I don't even want to have it. Yeah, it's not their fault, they're innocent, but what about what's best for me? And that's not even taking into consideration the possibility that the baby is a shifter! So obviously, adoption isn't an option. Don't even think about laughing at that rhyme, don't even smile! Oh, great, now I'm tearing up! Is it even normal to be this emotional so soon?"

At this point in my tirade, Dean burst out laughing.

"Don't laugh at me!"

"Lara! Breathe! You feel what you feel, and if that's what you want, we'll consider it. Just try to wait until after this case."

I nodded in agreement and went back to staring out the window. We drove through the night and into the morning. When we finally reached New Orleans, we went in search of a cheap motel. Unfortunately, the motel we found was on the opposite side of the city where we would be investigating.

"Hello! Do you have a single room available?"

"Sure do, queen size bed okay?"

"Perfect."

With the exchanging of cash and keys, I went back out to the Impala to grab Dean and our things. Our room was located on the third floor with its own entrance. I let out a small chuckle when I noticed the number on the door read 303.

"What's so funny?"

"The room number, it's 3oh!3. One of my favorite artists."

"Oh," he said stepping into the room.

"Were they out of doubles?"

I felt my face flush and looked at my feet. I had been having nightmares since the night we closed the case in Wyoming. Dean had been letting me sleep with him when the nightmares had been particularly nasty.

"I thought we might as well downsize considering I end up sleeping with you most nights anyway. Plus, it saves us money."

Dean nodded, putting his bag down by the bathroom.

"Want some grub?"

"Sure; look up more info when you get back?"

"Ok. Burgers alright with you?"

"Mushroom and swiss with onion rings and a Dr. Pepper," I replied taking out my toiletries from my duffle. I always felt grimy after a day of driving.

"Doesn't that upset your stomach?"

I shrugged, nothing was consistent anymore. Some days I could eat a certain food the next I couldn't.

"Alright, suit yourself."

With that, Dean left to pick up our meal and I proceeded to take my shower. The warm water raced down my body in rivulets. It felt like the tension rose along with the steam, leaving my body feeling lighter than before. Along with the relaxation, came clarity. Maybe this baby wasn't the worst thing to happen. Maybe it wouldn't be a shifter. I had always wanted kids, so the schedule bumped the first one up a few years. Who knows maybe someone would came along and help. _Maybe Dean?_ I blushed at the thought; as delectable as that fantasy was, I knew it was unlikely. I sighed and finished my shower.

"Food's here!"

"Coming!"

I padded out of the bathroom with bare feet, sweats, and my favorite Harry Potter tee-shirt.

"Smells good," I said, putting my wet hair up in a ponytail.

We sat together on the bed, our backs against the wall. Two fast food bags sat in front of us, while their contents were spread out. As I munched on my burger and fries, Dean flipped through the channels, occasionally pausing on commercials and random shows.

"Wait! Wait! Is this 'Charmed'?"

"I don't know, but the one in orange is hot."

"Ooh, it is! Yeah, Phoebe is awesome. Keep it here?"

"Sure."

We continued our meal while the Halliwell sisters fought to take down demons and learned to harness their new gifts. I listened to a few things about what they believed, the Wiccan Way. I had come to find the term misleading a few years prior, that each person has their own path and set of beliefs. As I listened, I thought about what I believed or used to. At this point, nothing. We tend to believe in what we can see, hear, touch, smell, or taste. We believe in the good and when pushed hard enough, the bad. For some of us, the bad leaves the biggest impression. The death of my grandfather in June had left a bitter taste in my mouth and no desire to believe in an absent God or gods. But perhaps the world around me could rekindle a belief in something.

"Have you ever thought about who's up there? Who's watching over us? _If_ there is anyone watching over us?"

Dean turned towards me, a mouth full of burger.

"Wha ew ean?"

I giggled and he swallowed the burger and coughed.

"Where did that come from?"

"I was just thinking about what the sisters are going through, my grandfather, what could happen…"

I placed my hand on my abdomen and smiled a little.

"Well, um, I've never really thought too much about it. Are you buying this shit? It's a TV show. Plus, witches suck, really gross."

"Wow, Dean, tell me how you really feel."

"Shut up, Lara. Finish eating so we can catch a few hours before working."

"Yes, sir!" I said with a mock salute.

I ate the rest of my burger and got up to through away our trash.

"Do I need to set the alarm?"

"You better. Five hours enough?"

"Sure."

I set the alarm and laid down. I felt Dean pull me to him, little spoon to his big one.

"You won't be alone," he sighed into my neck.


	6. Chapter 6

*A/N: First off, thank you so much for being patient. These next few chapters are set just before the pilot episode. Please, please, please feel free to pm me about inaccuracies having to do with voudon or New Orleans' culture, along with that please be courteous, I don't crap over your writing so don't crap on mine. Also, a special shout out to 'non of ur business sorry' for keeping me in line, you're a keeper. :]

I startled awake to the squawking of the alarm. Five hours wasn't enough time to sleep, which was strange because I had grown used to running on less. I groaned, stretching my arms above my head.

"Wake up," I mumbled pushing Dean away from me.

Dean mumbled something incoherent as he rolled over. I rolled my eyes and got out of bed. The cool tile of the bathroom floor helped shake the webs of sleep from my mind. The bright light however pushed my content state to an annoyed one. Which was only to be heightened by a wave of nausea.

"So, I guess you won't be wanting breakfast?" Dean spoke from the doorway, an amused smile beginning to form. From my position in front of the toilet, I flipped him the bird. "Heh, I'll grab you some water."

Between the heaves, I could hear him open the mini fridge and grab a bottle of water. He set the bottle down next to me and left.

Fifteen minutes later, I left the bathroom feeling hollow, but on the plus side the water and brushing my teeth took the edge off. Dean was dressed and had his bag packed, waiting.

"Let me get dressed and let's go."

Dean nodded from his place on the bed. I grabbed my cloths and went back into the bathroom to change. I hoped diving into a case would lift my mood, but the knot in the pit of my stomach gave me the feeling that wasn't in the cards.

I left the bathroom, cracking my neck as I went. Dean had left the room, which meant he was waiting in the car. I sighed, grabbed my sun glasses and walked out the door.

"Alright, where do we start? I was thinking we'd meet with the Priest or Priestess first then move on to the vics' families. What do you think?"

"I think this is stupid and we should find a different case."

"Nice, Dean, really nice. So, because these people have different beliefs and Hollywood has given said beliefs a thumb down, they don't deserve for us to look into their murders? Wow."

"Look, Lara, what about this even seems like our kind of gig? The people dying are the ones practicing voodoo, seems like someone else is doing our job."

"I can't believe you! Fine, I'll do it myself by myself!" With that last exclamation, I wrenched the car door open and got out. Dean just stared at me. "This is the part where we go our separate ways. Go on leave!" I yelled, slamming the door and stomping away.

"Lara, c'mon!"

I ignored him and kept walking in the direction I thought the Temple was in. I heard the crunch of Baby's tires creeping along beside me.

"Lara, you can't go by yourself- "

At that, I froze and slowly turned my gaze on him.

"What did you just say? I 'can't' go by myself? Why, because I have a vagina?"

"No, no, no, Lara, that wasn't what I meant. I mean, what if you're wrong or-or-or very right and it's a monster you haven't come across or read about yet?

"That isn't your problem anymore, now is it? You were all set to leave me on my own a month ago, here's your chance! Go on, go find something worthy of a Winchester."

"Argh! Fine, God damn temperamental…" he yelled and peeled off into traffic.

"Good riddance," I mumbled as I walked further down the sidewalk.

I had gone two blocks and saw a gas station to my right. Once inside, I asked if I could use their phone book and called a taxi. A traditional yellow sedan pulled up not even ten minutes later.

"You called for a ride?" the driver called out the passenger window. He had bright blue eyes set in a tanned face and a smile as bright as his eyes.

"Yeah, thanks," I said climbing into the back seat.

"Where to?"

"The Spiritual Temple, please."

The driver narrowed his eyes at me in the rear-view mirror; I smiled pleasantly back at him until he looked away. It was funny to me that even here, in New Orleans, practically the birth place of voudon, people let the stigma blind them to what was truth.

The drive to the temple was peaceful and full of sights. It placed my argument with Dean to the back burner of my mind and allowed me to organize my thoughts and questions for the Priest or Priestess. I chose my outfit carefully, so hopefully I looked professional and would sail through the first of many interviews. Why hadn't we thought of using fake badges or something?

"That'll be 25 dollars, ma'am."

"Oh, yeah, sure," I passed him the money. "Thanks."

The driver grunted and sped off.

"Rude."

"You wouldn't be talking about me, would you?" Dean stood with his hands in his pockets looking sheepish.

"No," I replied curtly. "What are you doing here?" I asked brushing past him towards the steps that lead to the entrance of the temple.

"You were right."

I paused mid-step, stunned.

"Wha-what was that?"

"You heard me."

"Yeah, but I don't believe it," I said turning to look at him from the second step.

"Argh," he grunted, rolling his eyes. "You were right, just because I don't agree with the vics, doesn't mean we shouldn't check it out."

"So, you're going to help me?"

"I'm going to try."

"Alright, let's go then.

A bell chimed as we entered. The building was much homier than I expected. Of course, the outside of the building could've clued me in had I been paying attention to my surroundings rather than Dean.

The lobby was lit with a few floor lamps and had a love seat with two chairs.

"Ah, welcome, welcome! What can I do for you today?"

"Hello, my name is Lara and this is my friend, Dean. We're students from Arizona State University. I'm working on a project for one of my classes and the topic is unorthodox religions. I was wondering if the Priest and/or Priestess had time to answer some questions for me?"

The lady looked from me to Dean and back again.

"You're no student. You're here about the murders."


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Thanks for your patience, life and such. Again, if any of my info is off, please let me know.

"O-o-oh! Um, ma'am, we ah-"

Our hostess held up a hand, cutting me off.

"We don't need any more people snooping around making things harder. So, I'll ask you again, what can I do for you today?"

I looked from Dean back to the woman before us. I've heard people say, "The truth will set you free;" I just hoped it was true.

"You're right, we're not students, but we aren't reporters either. Would you believe-"

"Lara, no!"

"Dean, let me finish. Ma'am, we're here to help."

"And what can you do that the police can't?"

"Ma'am, my friend and I specialize in the unexplained. We hunt, um well, monsters, for lack of a better word."

The woman looked between us for a moment, eyes narrowed. Finally, she sighed in resignation.

"Before we go any further, enough of this 'ma'am' stuff. Call me Patricia," she paused. "There had been a rise in the not right during ceremonies about a week before the first death was left at our door, and has continued to grow since."

"What do you mean 'the not right'?"

"The energy, if feels heavy and angry."

"I don't see what the hell 'energy' has to do with dead people," Dean said angrily.

"Dean-"

"It's alright. Not many understand our path, do they, Lara?"

I looked down at my hands, feeling the blush rise up my neck and into my cheeks. Out of all the things I'd shared with Dan and John, my religious preference hadn't been one of them.

"No, ma'am, they don't. Could you tell us more about the victims, how they were found?"

Dean had opened his mouth to say something when I cut him off. There was no way we wee going to have _that_ conversation in public, especially since I had heard a few of his tirades about unorthodox religions, mainly mine.

"They looked like the life had been drained from them, not like at a person's funeral, like a withered husk, not fit to be the home of a spirit."

"Did the police ever disclose the COD to you? It wasn't mentioned in any of the articles we've read."

"What do you mean _'we'_?" Dean muttered under his breath. I turned to glare at him with a "not helpful" expression on my face.

"No, but I'd heard the mummers each time they were her investigating. They thought it had to be internal, poisoning or something. As stumped as they are, they don't want to hear anyone else's ideas."

"What do you think, Patricia?"

"Wangas."

"Wangas?" Dean's eyebrows drew together, I could sense he was completely out of his element. Which was a first for me.

"It's an object that can be used to channel negative forces." Patricia nodded in agreement, slightly surprised.

"I don't think Bondeye has sent any loa to us. I think it is one of the congregation."

"Bon-"

"Not now, Dean. I'll explain later."

"But, Lara-"

"Sshh-"

"Bondeye is who watches over the cosmos and keeps the balance. The loa are the spirits under Him."

Dean looked between us skeptically and I in turn discovered that my hands may be the most interesting things with how often I found myself looking at them, hoping he wouldn't say anything upsetting.

"Okay, so why these people? Did they not put enough money in the offering plate?"

"Dean!" I looked at him shocked. Patricia pursed her lips and turned back toward me.

"They were all lovely people. William had the sweetest voice, Christine made a fine gumbo, and Lillian…" her voice dropped off at the last name, looking more upset than she throughout the whole conversation.

"Did it seem like anyone was less than impressed with them?"

"No, everyone really took to them."

"What do you mean 'took to them'?"

"I mean they were relatively new, they came to us within a few months of each other."

I tilted my head hoping that would help the glimmer of the thought pull through to front and center.

"Has anyone else started attending recently?"

"Hmmm, not that I can think of, do you think that could be a pattern?"

"Probably not, but it can't hurt to look into."

Dean nodded and stood, offering his hand to Patricia.

"Thank you for your time."

"Yes, thank you. We'll keep you updated?" I asked offering my own hand.

"Please."

With that we left, the bell tinkling behind us. The walk to the car was quiet, the drive to a small diner on the way back to the motel was quieter. Maybe Dean was right, Patricia hadn't given us much and she was very quick to believe us.

"Hi! Welcome to Benny's! Two for you today?"

"Yes, please," the hostess's voice brought me back to the present as she lead us to a booth close to the kitchen.

"Your server will be with you shortly."

"Thanks," Dean said as he watched her sashay away from us. "What do you think is good here?" He asked, bringing his eyes back into his skull.

"Probably not her ass," my eyes widened in surprise. I had not expected to hear my voice hold a tinge of jealousy. Apparently neither had Dean as his expression mirrored mine.

"Um, this skillet looks good. Hash browns, green peppers, onions, ham, cheese…" My voice trailed off, embarrassed.

"Where are you seeing that?" Dean's voice, on the other hand, was gruff.

"Second page under Breakfast Skillets, the ah, Rancher Skillet. Oooh, wait there's a Three Meat Skillet that has your name all over it, same thing but with sausage and bacon too," I said trying to divert attention from my earlier comment.

"Lara…"

"Ya know, I think that has my name on it, too."

"Are we going to just ignore-"

"Yes, hormones."

"If you say so."

"Hi, welcome to Benny's. I'm Shelby and I'll be taking care of you this afternoon. What can I get you started with, Coke?" I looked up at our server to see her giving Dean, what I'm sure she thought of as, a seductive look. I studied her a moment, shoulder length red hair, green eyes, and milky skin, I couldn't deny it, she was pretty.

"Lara?"

I'll have a Coke, thanks"

Shelby sauntered off to place our drink orders and left us to more uneasy silence.

"I think we should go to the morgue next," Dean spoke up.

"See what the bodies actually look like, maybe get a hit on what the beastie might be. Families after?"

Dean nodded in agreement. The families might hold some clues but we both knew figuring out what we were up against was more important. Our conversation sunk further into silence.

"What did she mean 'our path'?"

"Dean, can we talk about this later?"

"I think we should talk about it now."

"Are we ready to order?" I looked up at our server, grateful for the interruption.

"Yea-"

"We just need a few more minutes."

Shelby looked from me to Dean, smile in place, "Sure, take your time," she said.

"Lara?"

I glared at Dean, frustrated that he insisted on continuing this rather personal conversation.

"Argh! Before Grandpa died, like a year or so, I had started studying Wicca."

"You mean witchcraft."

"No, I mean Wicca. Wicca is more than just casting spells and brewing potions. It's the belief system behind the rituals."

"The Devil."

"No, well possibly. There are many types of wiccans and some do pray to him. I'm…was what was referred to as an eclectic wiccan, I brought many different traditions and deities together to form my own smorgasbord. Like, I didn't just pray to one pantheon, I prayed to the individual gods and goddesses that I felt attached to."

"Okay, so where does the energy and spells and bodily fluids come in?"

I rolled my eyes at his question. _Why does everyone assume that?_

"One, not every wiccan casts spells, that's a choice, two, 'bodily fluids'? Gross. What I've read and discussed with others, is that blood magic is a huge no-no, along with love charms, messing with free will, and typically hexes and the like. 'An ye harm none, do what ye will.' The most basic rule," Dean looked at me skeptically as I spoke. "Personal gain is also taboo and then there is the three-fold rule, what you release into the Universe, comes back to you three-fold-"

"Wait, hold up, is this just what you believed, 'cause I gotta tell you the witches I've met were nasty pieces of work."

"No, that's not 'just what I believed'. Those are some common ideals, and would you quit saying 'witch' like it's flesh eating bacteria? Not everything that you don't understand or doesn't fit your idea of acceptable is evil."

"Sorry to interrupt, have you decided what you'll have?"

"Yes," I said before Dean could respond. "I'll have the three-meat skillet, please. Dean?"

"And I'll have the same."

"Sure thing, cutie," she said with a wink.

"Ack, I think I just threw up a little."

"What? She's cute."

"Whatever. Do want to know anything else?"

"Yeah, so are you a good witch or a bad witch?"

"Har har, you're so funny."

"I know right? That's why the chicks dig me."

"It's a good thing you're cute."

"But in all seriousness, why am I only finding out about this now?"

"Well, I quit practicing when Grandpa died, my world had just shattered and I lost my belief in anything and everything."

"Whoa, wait a sec, I thought you were only studying. So you were casting spells, Lara that isn't something to play with, what else have you done, hex bags?"

"Hold on just a minute, I may have cast a few wards and helped soothe a friend with reiki, but I have never made a hex bag!"

"Who's hungry!"

Our sever appeared, meals in hand and a cheesy grin screwed into place.

"Here we go, anything else I can get you? No? Well let me know if you do," she said with a heavy emphasis on anything. _What a floozy_ , I thought, _obvious, much._

"Can we just drop it for now? I'm hungry, crabby, and ready to pop ginger Barbie there in the face."

"Fine."

"Thank you."

I had hoped that working this case could show him that not everything was black and white, but I had a feeling that the misconceptions he had now would only grow as we got closer to solving it.


End file.
